


In Your Corner

by Pares (kormantic)



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Animal Harm (Not Dief), Episode: s02e16 The Duel, Finger Sucking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Victoria Flashbacks, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-03
Updated: 2000-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9210134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormantic/pseuds/Pares
Summary: The past has a way of catching up with you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Te. Angst-A-Go-Go, who can say why?

Maybe I hurt his feelings or something. Maybe I was too snippy when he asked me that algebra question. Although Fraser's usually pretty thick skinned when it comes to his being annoying and me being short with him.

It's tough to keep my eyes on the road, 'cause I'm trying to get a good look at him to figure out if he's okay or not.

No, there's something wrong. He's hardly said a thing since he got in the car. And Dief keeps poking at him. Hell, even the wolf's worried about him. Finally, Fraser reaches up to scratch Dief behind the ears, which he almost never does, and I notice that he's got his sleeves tugged all the way down, so far that they brush his knuckles. Very Un-Mountielike.

What's more, he's kind of fidgeting. Playing with his cuffs, massaging his wrists. Mooning out the window.

That's it. Time to play a Mountie Round of twenty-questions.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Ray." Standard Fraser response. No surprises there. If he'd said 'yes', I would have had to pull the Riv over and have a heart attack. "The ropes were rather tight, that's all."

"Jesus! Why didn't you say anything? Are you bleeding!?" Christ! Only Fraser would be too polite to mention that maybe he could use some medical assistance.

"Oh, no." He sets his hands on the dashboard and the sleeves of his pullover ride up, showing red skin. He kinda looks 'em over and diagnoses, "There was some chafing, a few contusions." Sitting up a little straighter, he turns his head and opens his mouth to start relating some 'fascinating' fact that only Mounties can hear. But it's the first sign of life he's showed since he got in the car, so I've got no problems listening. "Although, the ropes were quite thin, and tied in a cunning fashion," he explained. "The knots were designed to tighten," and he clenches his hands to demonstrate, "with every movement... And as such, they cut off circulation for short while."

Trust Fraser to be impressed by a criminal who got a merit badge in trussing up hostages.

"Should I take you to the hospital?" I'm hoping the answer's yes, 'cause I've got words swimming around in my head like 'nerve damage' and 'gangrene' and even 'amputation' and worse...

"There's nothing wrong with me that a good hot bath won't fix." And he sounds all hearty, but he rubs his left wrist again.

"Okay then, home it is. You want me to oust anybody who might be in the bathroom so you can get in there?" At least I can get the guy a little quality time.

"Ah. Well. It would seem, Ray, that Mr. Mustafi tried to 'fix a leak' in the pipes last night--"

"Jeez! Why are you still living in that rat trap? My family's still in Arizona visiting my Uncle Vincenzo. We got plenty of hot water. I'll lend you some clean sweats." Sometimes I think I'd pay the rent on a place for Fraser myself, just so's he can have his own damned bathroom. It gives me the creeps to think of all those freaks in that building in and out of there all day.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Don't mention it. Thanks for not... getting shot or anything." And what I really mean is I'm glad he's not dead, not shut up in a hearse like the toy Mountie Carver sent me. My heart fell into my shoes when I saw that little red coat and tiny hat... And how morbid is that, anyway? What kind of a kid plays with a toy _hearse_ , huh? I bet you an even twenty Carver was that kind of kid. Sick fuck.

"It was my pleasure, Ray." And he gives me that big sweet Mountie smile. His eyes twinkle and everything. Makes my chest tight sometimes, when he does that. That anybody can be as _nice_ as he is... It gets me.

"We'll be there in a jiffy," I promise. I mean, it's the least I can do for the guy. He got kidnapped for being _my_ friend, after all, right?

"There's no hurry, Ray."

I wave him off; Fraser has made an art form out of 'gracious reticence'... Father Behan said that to me once, and it stuck with me, because in anyone else it would be big time passive aggression, but in Fraser it's exactly what the padre said.

"Ray, it could be that you need to have your turning lights repaired." But he says it like he knows for damned sure that they need to be repaired like he needs a class in etiquette. And that's about as close to snotty as Fraser ever gets. But I take it as a good sign, 'cause I know it's Fraser's way of teasing me.

"They work fine, Benny," I tell him. Hey, I can play the straight man, too.

"And yet you continue to make lane changes without--"

I can't help it, I bust out grinning.

"See? You're feeling better already!"

I blow by a stop sign just to see Fraser tip his eyebrow up half a centimeter, and Dief gives a little yip, like he's laughing.

***

Once in the driveway, I kill the engine and pat Fraser's shoulder.

"Home sweet home. C'mon up. We've got cold cuts... Salami, roast beef... I'll fix you a sandwich while you're in there."

"That would be much appreciated."

Dief gives me the eye.

"For you, I got bologna."

The wolf sniffs. You don't know disdainful until you start hanging out with a smart ass wolf.

"Okay, okay, you had a brush with death today, too. I guess that rates you a roast beef sandwich."

I swear he smiles at me, and bounces out of the car to the stairs, looking back over his shoulder to make sure we're following.

I follow Dief's curly tail up the steps, Fraser right beside me.

***

The house is kind of quiet without Tony and Maria sniping at each other, or Frannie complaining to Ma about the butcher being sweet on her. The kids aren't fighting over the Nintendo, and Ma doesn't have her radio on... A little peace and quiet is nice, but the house feels too empty, even with Fraser and Dief here. This house is _supposed_ to be chock full of Vecchios.

I go to the Hi-fi in the living room and switch it on; I don't bother to look at the record on the turntable, but it turns out to be one of Ma's bossa nova albums from the 60's. It's a Sinatra album, too... and just between you and me, the music is too sweet and girly for a guy like Frank to be singing... but hey, if Ol' Blue Eyes wants to sing about 'the shadow of her smile' or Gingee, whatever the hell that is, it's no skin off my nose.

The pipes being what they are, I have no problem hearing the tub fill, even downstairs and in the kitchen, with Frank. The streetlights are coming on outside, and the world is shadowy and kind of orange, but sort of cozy, too.

I cut the sandwiches into perfect triangles, the rye nice and fresh, and nod in satisfaction.

"Two roast beef Ray specials _with_ horseradish for me and Benny, and a salami, pimento loaf and roast beef with extra mayo for the wolf."

I slap Dief's sandwich on a paper plate and set it on the floor.

"Don't come crying to me when you need an Alka Seltzer, furball. The only reason we even _have_ pimento loaf is 'cause Ma knows you like it."

Dief ignores me in favor of the sandwich, and I shake my head and carry the other plates over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down, I take a bite and smile. Now _that's_ a sandwich. Dief's already licking his chops and casually edging towards Fraser's plate.

"Hey, Frase! You better hurry up and get down here. The wolf's makin' eyes at your sandwich."

"I'll be down shortly, Ray," he says, and he sounds far away. Farther away than just upstairs in the tub.

I take a second bite before figuring I should wait for Fraser. It's probably not polite to have to get up to make a second sandwich before your friend even really starts his. I glance at my watch. We've been home maybe twenty minutes. Let the Mountie prune up a little more, then we'd have some grub, maybe watch a game. It's already after eight... Maybe I can convince Fraser to sack out in the guest room.

I had to talk Ma and Maria out of stripping all the beds before they left; Maria inherited Ma's clean-freak nature. Cleanliness is next to godliness and all. I guess they wanted to feel in control about _something_ , even being stalked. Frannie, she never cleans unless she's pissed off. And she _was_ pissed off, 'Who does this guy think he is, trying to blow up Maria and the baby?!' and 'Where does he get off, setting buildings on fire?' so she cleaned, too, until the cab came and I sent her and her fifty Gucci bags to visit cousin Vittorio in Belmont.

I should just go ahead and make up the guest bed for him.

Truth to tell, Fraser isn't the only one who's had a long, bad day. And I could make us some eggs in the morning so's at least I'd know he was getting a decent breakfast.

Man, my palms are slicking up just thinking about finding Fraser in that junked car. On his way to being crammed into the crusher. Jesus. What if I'd been wrong? Hadn't figured it out? Hadn't second guessed that slimy bastard Carver?

Better not to think about it. Fraser's okay, Ma and the rest of the family are okay, hell, even Dief's okay.

Dief bumps my knee with his nose and I have to smile at him.

"He could be a while, Dief. You know how clean he is." Who knows how long it could take to get Carver's stink off? "How about another pimento loaf sandwich, big guy?"

When Dief doesn't scramble for the kitchen, I look over to find him with his nose in the air, staring at the stairs.

"He's just takin' a bath, boy. He's okay."

Dief starts to whine. Which in itself isn't too unusual.

"Dief? Don't you want a sandwich?"

He never even looks my way. And I said 'sandwich'. Of course, the wolf's deaf, and facing the stairs...

"All right. We'll check on him." Heck, even a Mountie can slip on a bar of soap, right? I start up the steps with Dief on my heels, whining constantly now. "Fraser's right," I tell him. "You _are_ a baby."

Dief brushes past me and rears up to scratch at the closed bathroom door. I lean over and rap on the door.

"Fraser? The sandwiches are getting... Uh... Warm. Want me to make you some tea or something?"

"I'll be down in a minute, Ray." But his voice sounds... Weird. Definitely weird. Not good at all. Oh jeez, is he _crying_ in there? How wrong is that?

"Benny, you sure you're okay?" 'Cause you don't sound so good.

No answer.

Fraser, ignoring me? What the hell's going on here? I press my ear to the cool paint of the door, but I don't hear anything scarier than the leaky tap.

Cracking the door, I stick my head in.

"Benny?"

Fraser has his knees drawn up, and he's kinda hunched forward. His shoulders are shaking, and his face is all red and smeary. Sweet Christ.

"Oh man, Benny, do you have to go to the hospital?" I'm kneeling on the green yarn bathmat, with my hand on his shoulder, trying to see if he's got bruises, maybe he's cut, and Dief's licking Fraser's cheek like crazy. The two of us are definitely not used to seeing Fraser this way.

The bathwater's cloudy with soap, but hardly even warm. The guy's probably trying not to waste the hot water... Sheesh, what an idiot.

"I just... Can't seem to get warm," Fraser murmurs.

Well, no wonder, you mook. You're sitting in a cold tub, what do you expect?

"Benny..." And I brush the back of my hand against Fraser's forehead. Oh, man. He's as cold and clammy as a kiss from my Great Aunt Cecilie. "Benny, I think you're in shock."

Fraser just starts rubbing his wrists again, staring at my Ma's patterned wallpaper like he's got to give a report on it later.

"Benny, do you hear me? Come on, let's get some _hot_ water in there..." The tap squeaks when I turn it, and a steamy splash of water glugs into the tub.

I take one of Fraser's hands in rub it between my hands, like I should have done when he was walking around blind and head injured in Canada that time the plane went down. I press the ball of my thumb into Fraser's palm and rub a circle into his cool skin.

He tries to tug his hand away, but I hold on.

"That won't be necessary, I assure you. I can--"

"Your hands are like ice! What the hell's going on with you?" Relax, Vecchio. Yelling at the guys isn't gonna help anybody, here.

"You know, Ray... The Inuit..." And he trails off.

"I'm right here, Benny." I squeeze his big, chilly hand. "What about the Inuit?"

The water isn't very sudsy. It's kind of gray, actually, but it's not hiding the fact that I'm holding hands with a naked Mountie. The weird thing is, it doesn't seem weird.

Fraser nods, like he's thanking me, and starts talking again.

"The winters are harsh, very harsh in the Yukon. The Inuit found it necessary, in times past, to compete with other predators during the leanest times, when game was scarce. Wolves, especially, troubled the smaller villages, as the animals neared starvation."

Dief whines, but Fraser keeps going.

"In order to protect their winter stores, the Inuit would rub a sharpened knife with seal fat, and bury the knife hilt first in a snowbank." He swallows, a funny little gulping sound, like his throat's too tight, but being Fraser, he just keeps going. "The scent naturally attracted the starving wolves, who would then lick the knife in desperation.

"These knives were so sharp, and the air so bitter, numbingly cold, that the wolves never knew they'd cut their own tongues to ribbons. That they were, in fact, bleeding to death."

Okay, Ray. Think. He's trying to tell you something here.

Something clicks into place and I realize a few things. One, that Benny has all the earmarks of somebody having a post traumatic stress reaction. Which was, two, triggered by Mountie Brush With Death #3046...

In which Carver, a real scumbag, does some homework and starts fucking with my life, stalking my friends and threatening my family, all because of some old grudge...

And suddenly, I just _know_ this is about Victoria.

"Victoria was that knife, Ray."

"I know, Benny."

"I put her fingers in my mouth," Fraser whispers.

"It's okay now, Benny," and I pat his hand.

"I put her fingers in my _mouth_ ," Fraser insists. "And I'm still bleeding..."

"Aw, Benny..." I rest my forehead against Fraser's temple, and soak the sleeve of my turtleneck putting an arm around his shoulders. "It'll be okay, Benny. I promise. I promise it will."

"I thought I loved her, Ray. I thought I could help her..."

"She broke your heart," I tell him. "You couldn't help it."

Fraser closes his eyes, but he looks like he's relaxing, not stocking up on guilt.

"Fraser... Benny. It's okay. We're okay. Carver's up the river, and we're good. We got out in plenty of time, and he sang like a canary to boot. He won't be hurting anybody for a good long time."

Fraser turns his head to speak, and his big blue eyes are all solemn.

"That's not the point, Ray. The point is, you might have died."

Like _that's_ important. Or even a new thing.

"What about you? He _kidnapped_ you and Dief! Tied you up! Tried to mash you into little Mountie pieces! Holy shit, I about had a heart attack when I saw you in there, all--" I realize I'm still rubbing Fraser's hand, and probably hurting him a little, 'cause I'm getting all wound up and forgetting what I'm doing. I brush his welted wrist with my thumb, to apologize. I keep my eyes on his strong, square hand. That capable Mountie hand. The guy I'm used to seeing.

"I'm just glad I got there in time," and man, my voice is suspiciously husky.

"As am I." And Fraser squeezes my hand. Hey, who's comforting who here?

The water's nearly to Fraser's knees, and finally hot.

"Okay, then," I try to inject some gusto into my voice, and swipe my blurry eyes with my free hand. "Okay. Look, you take a nice hot soak, and when you feel up to it, you can eat your sandwich."

Fraser tries to smile and leans back in the tub.

"She hurt you bad, Benny. Real bad. But you'll get past it." I promise him.

"Will you help me, Ray?" He sounds kind of shy. But if he needs a shoulder to lean on, I've got two of 'em.

"Sure I will. Sure. Whatever you need. I'm your man." I've still got his hand in mine, and he still looks so beat up I just keep babbling. "I'm sorry about that, Benny. I wish I could take it away, what she did to you."

"You can," he says, that Mountie voice hoarse with trying to keep it together.

Something about the way he says it, it makes me want to jump up and run out of the room. This is getting to be more than I can handle. My heart slams against my ribs and my mouth gets dry, but I talk anyway.

"You gotta tell me how, Benny," I say softly.

But Fraser shakes his head, and squeezes my hand again. Those big blue eyes close, and he's crying. Quiet, so quiet he's scaring me, tears sliding down his cheeks like snow melting. Dief whines some more and puts his head down.

Then Fraser lifts my hand to his mouth.

And breathes on my fingers.

I can't help it. I shiver and try to play it cool. He must need this bad, or he'd never ask for it. Fraser gives my hand the same treatment I gave him, petting my palm with his thumb. But then he presses a kiss to my fingers, like a priest almost, like he's kissing something sacred.

Then he slides three of my fingers into his mouth, and I nearly yank my hand away-- it's that hot in Fraser's mouth.

I can't feel the back of Fraser's throat, but his mouth is so hot and wet I half feel like I've stuck my hand in the bath.

I almost expect my fingers to melt like sugarcubes in espresso.

Angie, she loved me for a while, and Irene was my first girl, but nobody, _nobody_ has ever touched me like this.

There's no sucking, only soft licking and smooth slippery warmth. Fraser kisses my fingers so long, I'm a little pruny when he finally lets me go... and I'm tenting my pants so bad I think about mashing my crotch against the cold porcelain of the tub to try and stub it _out_. This is about Benny hurting, and I should be ashamed, because what Benny was doing had nothing to do with sex.

It scares me to my soul. Benny can't help it, he needs me. It scares me how much.

But I feel dressed up in warm light, like Fraser's switched something _on_ inside me that maybe I won't be able to turn off...

I'm still holding his hand, and I cup his cheek with the other one.

"Benny." And I kiss Fraser's temple, and then his eyebrow, and then the slope of his nose, and then... God help me, I didn't know what sweetness tasted like, until I touched Benny's lips, stroked them with my tongue...

And god, Benny opens his mouth to me, even kisses me back, and shit, my shirt's soaking to the elbows and aw Christ, Benny needs to get _warm_...

I'm panting like I'm running another Mountie Marathon, and my back's complaining about the weird angle, and my knees don't have too much nice to say, either, and damn it, I've gotta get Benny warm, no more messing around.

"We gotta get you outta this tub, okay? Lemme get those sweats--"

"Ray--" And Fraser's got a death grip on my wrist, and he's still too close to his Victoria flashback to let go of yet.

"Okay. Okay then. I'll just wrap you up, we'll go inside, get you under the covers. I'm not going anywhere. Dief, get the towel, huh?"

I spot my brother-in-law's robe hanging on the back of the door and reach for it, holding it up for Fraser's approval.

Fraser nods a little, and lets go of my hand to brace himself against the sides of the tub.

And when he stands up, all I can think of was this highschool class I'd taken in art appreciation and Venus coming out of the sea, and here's Fraser, _all_ of him, shining and white and holy holy holy mother of God he's _beautiful_...

I drop the robe.

"Ray. Ray. Ray?"

"Huh?" I wonder if my lower jaw has actually touched my chest.

"You're staring."

I feel my face go hot, and lean down to grab the robe. I hold it open and Fraser steps out of the tub, hardly dripping in the bathmat (how does he _do_ that?) and right into Tony's robe.

Dief has the towel, and I snag it from him and drape it around Fraser's neck.

Then I tug the guy across the hallway into my bedroom, and shove the covers back, kicking off my loafers before climbing into the bed and dragging Fraser in behind me.

I wrap my arms around him, feel him press his cheek against my throat, and I squeeze him so hard he squeaks a little. I rub his back hard, and hook my thigh over Fraser's legs for good measure.

"Better?" I ask, and I tuck the blankets around his white neck.

"Much better, Ray," Benny murmurs.

And just feeling his lips move against my neck makes me half crazy, and I screw my eyes shut, hide my face in his wet hair.

"Good. I'll keep you warm, Benny," I promise. "Long as you need me to." And I'm lying. I don't want to be, but I am.

Angie and me, we broke up because we both knew we didn't need each other. But Fraser, he needs things I just can't give.

But I want this as much as he does. I pet his head and feel his rib cage rock under my hand and just stare my fill at a living, breathing Mountie.

***

Downstairs, Fraser's making eggs.

Even his plain cooking can handle the intricacies of scrambling, and he sort of insisted, so I let him go down and cook us breakfast. Dief is probably out knocking over garbage cans and making eyes at blondes.

I'm straightening my tie and staring into the mirror, smoothing what little hair I have.

This is the face of a guy who slept with another guy.

Who woke up before light this morning and put his hand on another guy's dick, who kissed it even, who made another guy come, and then held him while he fell asleep, feeling so tender I could hardly take a goddamned breath.

I squint at myself in the mirror, and it's like I can see _two_ Rays. A high roller and me. Not a family man, but a _Family_ man....

What if I'd taken Zuko's place, if I'd married Irene and inherited her father's neighborhood connections and _my_ father's Lookin' Out For Number One mentality? Probably, it's a mentality I might have ended up with anyway, if Fraser hadn't come along when he did.

Since Angie, it was like... my heart was cooling off.

I mean, I still loved my family, but without someone to really heap my affection on, it was like what affection I had was drying up. Docs always say, a muscle you don't exercise shrivels up.

Ma's self-sufficient, running the house with an iron hand inside a velvet potholder. Maria, for all her yammering, is all set. Tony's basically her love slave. Frannie, she's her own girl.

Call it machismo, some male chauvinist pig power trip, whatever you want. But I need to be needed. Maybe it's an Italian thing, I don't know. But as much as I like being needed, there's a part of me that knows I just don't got what it takes to give Fraser everything he deserves.

I didn't mind taking that bullet for him; hell, I'd do it again. But I don't know if I could handle being outed at the station.

Never make love to a woman again? Break my Ma's heart about grandchildren? Never pass on the Vecchio name?

I don't care so much about that last one; god knows my dad was a bastard.

But Fraser's going to expect the sun and the moon, because that's what he's gonna try to give me. He loves me. I know that.

He's gonna want forever.

And that slick goombah in the mirror there, he knows me, and he knows we don't have forever in us. We'd grow to resent that kind of constant devotion, 'cause the guilt would eat us up inside, knowing we couldn't give it back the same way.

As easy as it is to love him, I just can't see it working out.

Just hearing him moan my name last night made me come.

And nobody's _ever_ kissed me like that.

And he's downstairs. And he's making me breakfast. And he's singing in German, for Chrissake.

So goddamned happy.

I tug at my tie again and stare at that fucker in the mirror.

"You promised him you'd keep him warm. You're gonna keep that promise, so just suck it up, Vecchio. You're fucking in love with that guy, and you're gonna own up to it, and take the consequences." Let Benny love you, Vecchio, you yellow bastard.

I squint real hard and that second Vecchio, he fades out, blurs away.

I pat on a little cologne.

And go on down to breakfast.

**END**

When you turn the final corner  
And you run into yourself  
Then you know that you have turned  
All the corners that are left

\--"Final Curve" by Langston Hughes

Inuit story gleaned from _Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek_ , by my non-fiction heroine, Annie Dillard.


End file.
